


Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

by yaknownyan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, High School, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, More tags to be added, Multi, Partying, Underage Drinking, this is GAY and ooc but oh well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-15 09:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11228262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaknownyan/pseuds/yaknownyan
Summary: A party filled with jocks and popular people from their school. Looking back in all of this, those signs should've been enough to stop Keith from going. But here he was, in front of Matt's house, unfashionably late at eleven o' clock at night.





	1. Alright, alright, it's a hell of a feeling though

Keith never went to parties. Even if he wanted to, his social life only consisted of two people - Matt Holt and his little sister. Pathetic, yes, but they were good friends and trying their best to help him get the best high school experience as possible, and  that meant encouraging him to do as many social interactions he could as an introvert. 

He knew Matt from work, mostly. Although they had calculus together, they had only started talking to each other during their combined shifts at the diner near the local town's drive-in. It was weird at first. They were complete opposites of each other, and Keith knew that he was friends with people he was fully aware were complete assholes. He tried telling Matt that once and he simply laughed, shaking his gum scraper at him with a wink and a lesson he would take for life, "Don't judge a book by its cover."

He decided to trust Matt on that advice, and they slowly went from being acquaintances to being good friends. Once they were close enough, Matt started inviting him over to his house plenty of times to do homework. Or at least, that was his excuse to his dad, because they just hanged around and played video-games all day. That's how he met Pidge. Differently from Matt, he became friends with her in the same day they were introduced to each other. How couldn't he? The kid could kick ass at Mortal Kombat, and she was the only one in the house who could persuade Mr Holt to buy pizza (using what Matt called her irresistible "younger child charm"). Instant bonding.

Matt never introduced him to his friends though. He probably thought that Keith wouldn't like them, and he was probably right. So it was a surprise, to say at least, when he asked if Keith wanted to come to a party around his that friday. 

"As in... a party _?_ " Keith stopped wiping the tables, nearly dropping the two milkshake glasses on the tray he was balancing with his other hand.

Matt scoffed, "Um, yeah. Unless you don't understand what I mean by the term  _party_. My parents are going to be away for the weekend."

"I don't know..." Keith brought the dirty cups to the sink and dipped them in the soapy lukewarm water, trying to come up with an excuse so he wouldn't have to go, "...I got homework to do."

"Bullshit, Keith."

He frowned, "It's true. Biology."

"And since when do you give a..." he stopped himself, side eyeing the family with a toddler sat on the booth two rows back, "...since when do you  _care,_ aboutBiology?"

"Ever since you started caring about swearing at work.", he gave him a playful kick on the shin and went over to the family with his flip notepad to get their orders.

"Friday night, 9 o' clock at my place! Who knows? Maybe you'll meet a cute boy there!" Matt replied, shouting across the diner and receiving a slap on the back of his head as a disapproval from their manager.

A party filled with jocks and popular people from their school. Looking back in all of this, those signs should've been enough to stop Keith from going. But here he was, in front of Matt's house, unfashionably late at eleven o' clock at night.

It had rained in the afternoon, so it was extremely cold. Keith wore his jacket, but he still couldn't feel his fingers and he was having trouble closing his bike chain so he could lock it to a nearby post. Unfortunately the humidity wasn't enough to cover the smell of weed coming from the residence (Matt's parents would kill him if he wasn't careful when covering up the tracks). Another extremely noticeable thing was the music, loud enough he heard the repetitive beat a block away from the place, just slightly muffled together with shouts by the front door being closed. He wondered how the hell Matt's neighbours weren't, or didn't seem to be bothered by this.

He finally finished locking his bike and hesitantly climbed the stairs up to the porch. Once he was at the doorstep, he froze. Should he knock? Should he just walk in? What was he even doing here? This was a mista-

Before he could finish the thought, the door abruptly swung open, interrupting his over-thinking. Two people went out for a smoke, and Keith went in where they came from. 

Even though it had seemed pretty intense from the outside, the place wasn't as packed as it seemed. It was still a large portion of people, but scattered into different places and mostly hanging in groups. Some were up, dancing and laughing in the hallways, others were doing dares or playing beer pong and chugging their red plastic cups. The stoners were passing around a joint on a circle near the living room and there were the usual lovey-dovey couples or regrettable one night stands making out on some random corners. There were probably some upstairs too. Either way, everyone was pretty much wasted enough to feel comfortable around the environment, except him.

His first task was simple - to find Matt or Pidge. He would feel more at ease around someone he knew well. 

As he roamed around the house, some people recognised him. He even got two hair ruffles and a whimsical slap on his back, but mostly nods or greetings. It felt bizarre, specially since he was pretty sure he never talked to nearly any of the people who said hi to him. Maybe the party atmosphere made them more friendly, or they were just completely shitfaced. 

" _Heyyyy!_ " someone grabbed his shoulder, spiritedly shaking his whole body, "Keith! How's it going?"

It was Hunk, a kid from his geography class who was literally the chillest person in the world. Hunk had a reputation for being a precious ray of sunshine, and had the capacity to be friends with nearly anyone. That was proven by the fact he was best friends with a huge jerk, who never lost a chance to talk shit at Keith. Which is why he avoided talking to Hunk - wherever Hunk was, McClain  _had_  to be nearby. It was kind of creepy, actually.

"I'm good." he ignored the obvious violation of personal space, giving Hunk a pat back, "Have you seen Matt anywhere?"

Hunk pondered for a while, a little drunk himself, "Oh! Last time I saw him, he was outside."

"Thanks."

"I'm really sorry man, but I'm gonna have to leave. I'm going on a beer run with Lance, but once we're back, you should hang with us!"

Hunk, oh, precious Hunk. He was either oblivious to the fact that McClain hated Keith with his entire being, or he was totally aware of it and was innocent enough to believe that if they hung out together, all that anger would dissipate.

"I'm going to see Matt first. But maybe, yeah."

That seemed to be enough to satisfy him, because he gave Keith a quick wave and left to find Lance.

Keith didn't realise how stuffed the place felt until he walked out the kitchen door, went outside and met frigid coldness like a slap on the face, the chilly nighttime air filling his lungs. The temperature shock only lasted for a few seconds, but he re-felt goosebumps on his skin when he finally found Matt, sitting on a plastic chair and hanging out with a few of his friends that he recognised. 

Matt met his gaze, and instead of being sensible and excusing himself, he obnoxiously shouted his name across the yard. Once his friends started looking over their shoulders to get a glimpse of him, Keith knew he had no escape. He walked over to them, tucking his hands in his pockets. 

"Guys, this is my friend, Keith. The one I talked about." Matt stood up just as Keith approached them, wrapping his arm around his neck and shoulders and nearly spilling his drink as he gesticulated, "This guy, not even joking, knows how to make the  _best_ burgers ever."

The seriousness in his tone was so comical it made everyone in the group laugh. He kept saying it was true, and proceeding to tell a story about the legendary sandwich he and Keith had made together at work during winter break last year. Keith already heard him telling that story to Pidge and their other co-workers about a thousand times, and he always told it like it was the first. 

"...not only did we add  _three_  burgers... " he slurred as he held a finger up, shaking it for emphasis "...we added  _another_  burger. Four. Fucking. Burgers."

 

"I'm pretty sure that's a violation of the health and safety department Matt." said a girl, in fact, the only girl in the group. She had an accent, that seemed roll thickly around her fancy vocabulary. British, probably, "Besides, aren't you going to introduce us?" 

Matt gave himself a smack on the forehead, "Oh! Yeah, right! How silly of me. Keith, these are Allura, Rolo, Thace and... hey! Where's Shiro?!" 

_Thace?  
_

 "Thace as in, the legendary quarterback from the  _Galra?!_ " Keith chirped, his facade as being uninterested suddenly faltering.

"That's the one." Thace chuckled to himself, "Man, I thought after I finally left for college people would forget about that."

Matt snorted, "It's only been three years, no one is going to forget you that easily. But seriously, where is Shiro?! I swear he was here a minute ago!"

"I think he went to get a beer." Rolo took a big gulp from his cup, seemingly uninvolved in anything that was going on. By the red tint on his eyes and his dilated pupils, Keith could tell he had his few share of joints, "Might be back soon."

Allura frowned, "He was so eager to meet Keith, though!"

"Was he?" Keith asked, baffled.

"Absolutely. To be honest, so was I." she admitted, "Matt only said good things about you. And trust me, and from what he told me, you and Shiro are probably going to hit off really well. Oh! There he is." Allura stared off into the distance behind him, waving her arm enthusiastically, "Hey! Shiro!"

Keith turned around, and he felt the blood drain from his face. 

The well acclaimed Shiro was no one other than The Champion, a senior, captain of Voltron football team and Garrison High School's golden boy. Keith never knew his real name until now, but he knew that he received his nickname because of his amazing athletic skills. He was extremely popular - The Champion was always surrounded with at least two friends wherever he went, based on the glimpses of him Keith had seen around the school corridors. He didn't blame people for liking him. The guy looked like the visual embodiment of Regina George's wet dream, bearing a bulky and muscular figure, a fashionable hairstyle and sharp, manly features. Keith already heard girls in his year gossiping about how that jawline alone could make hearts race faster, and how his million dollar smile could save lives. 

He walked towards them, saying hi to a few people already on his way. Keith knew it was rude to be staring so intently, but perplexity kept him from looking away. He felt uneasy. Meeting and hanging out with a few of Matt's friends was something, but meeting and hanging out with  _The Champion_ was a completely different thing. 

He didn't know what would happen when their eyes met. Probably instant dislike, or even antipathy. He also didn't know why he expected that to happen. There was no reason for the guy to hate him. Maybe he just speculated that because he thought him to be an arrogant asshole. Who knows?

What he  _didn't_  expect was for Shiro to light up almost immediately, looking pleasantly surprised to see him. He neared the group without breaking eye contact with Keith or speeding his pace, taking a sip from his cup with a quick flick of his wrist, like a shot-glass. If that was supposed to intimidate Keith, it wasn't working. Shiro's smile was too friendly and warm to make him feel bashful. 

Matt grinned, "There he is! The man himself!"

"Don't glorify me, Matt. At least not in front of Keith." he turned to him, his tone of voice playful as he held up his hand for a high five. Keith hesitated for a second, but gave in anyway, "I've heard a lot about you. Sorry, by the way. If I knew you were here, I would've gotten you a drink."

"Oh no, it's fine, really." he scratched the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish from how amiable he was being "Um, Shiro, right?" 

"Yeah. Judging from your reaction, I don't know if Matt told you about me."

Matt intervened, grabbing both of their shoulders so clumsily that it almost made them lose their balance, "Well, you see, my dearest Takashi, some things are best left for fate." he winked smugly at Shiro, as if they were sharing an inside joke Keith wasn't part of, "Why don't you show Keith where the drinks are?"

Keith glanced frantically between the both of them. Ok, this was  _definitely_  an inside joke he was missing out on, from the way Matt looked at Shiro suggestively and how the latter didn't even flinch, simply nodding a few times before shrugging, "Sure. I-I mean, do you wanna grab a drink, Keith?"

He was about to answer, when he felt Matt elbow his ribs with more than enough force for him to understand what was going on, "Yeah.", he grumbled.

Shiro led the way and gave Keith enough space to walk right behind him, so they wouldn't bump into anyone in the narrow hallways and packed rooms. Keith still didn't avert his gaze, eyes staring into the back of his undercut before tracing the outline of his broad shoulders formed underneath his varsity jacket. From what he understood, Matt was trying to get him and Shiro alone together, and if this was going the way it was intended, he honestly wouldn't know what to do. 

Shiro tried to break the ice a few times while they walked together, turning around and making some comment about the party, shouting over the music. Keith heard him, though barely, but didn't answer. He still felt a little bit too weary to start a conversation,  _specially_  with someone as sociable a him. The whole interaction back there was exhausting enough.

Maybe if he had a drink or two.

They went in the kitchen, the closed door softening the unceasing beat of the techno music playing over the speakers. The place was a complete disaster. Two coolers were placed on the counter, overflowed with beer, juice and coke cans. There were bottles of vodka (of which one was already empty) lay next to the in-numerous packets of chips, both opened and unopened, while a few ripped pizza boxes with grease stains were messily discarded on the floor along with used red-solo cups. Based on the small puddles of liquid and the tangy smell mixed with Doritos, a few of them weren't completely empty when thrown away. Shiro stepped over the mess swiftly, already knowing his way around what seemed like an absolutely disgusting stoner's paradise. 

"Matt put me in cleaning duty for tomorrow..." he chuckled, grabbing a new plastic cup from the package next to the fridge and tossing it to Keith, who caught it, "...so it's going to be a rough morning."

He then leaned his back against the counter, waiting for Keith to pick something.

Keith cautiously avoided kicking the pizza boxes as he surveyed the drinks. After a few minutes of awkward silence over his choosing, he opted for a mix of coke with cheap vodka. Shiro whistled in amazement.

"What?" Keith asked, pouring a generous amount of the bottle's content into his cup.

"Nothing. Just didn't expect you to be a coke-and-vodka kind of guy."

He walked over to the table and yanked a beer from the cooler, not even bothering to use a cup as he took a sip.

"Well, I kinda expected you to be a beer straight from the can kinda of guy."

Shiro arched one eyebrow, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Big guy, macho man, who doesn't care about the germs and possible rat piss on that dirty factory can." 

Shiro grimaced, "...thanks for the image." and continued to sip from the can anyway, "But I've got more things to worry about rather than rat piss."

"Like what?"

"Like trying not to get too drunk."

"I thought you would do the opposite." 

Shiro laughed, and Keith felt contented, "What made you think that?"

Keith took a swing of his drink, noticing out of the corner of his eye the way Shiro was staring at his throat, bobbing with every gulp. Once he was finished, he spoke the two cursed words, loud and clear, "The Champion."

He suddenly tensed up, but shifted back almost as quick. Unfortunately, Keith had noticed and was already regretting what he had said when Shiro smiled timidly, "Didn't think you would see me that way."

 

"It's just how everyone at school sees you." Keith started pouring another cup for himself. Shiro seemed to still be through his, "To be honest, I'm just surprised from how you're, well, not a jerk."

The words were starting to spill out of his mouth before he could tell himself to shut the fuck up. But Shiro didn't seem offended, and that was a good sign. 

"You know, you seem a bit too confrontational for someone who knows me as The Champion." he said, a playful tone on his voice. He finally finished his beer and threw it at the nearest trash can before leaning over the table to grab and open a new one. 

"Am I supposed to be scared?"

Shiro's eyes widened as his teasing deception obviously wavered. He stopped mid-drink, shaking his head, "What? No. No, no n-"

Keith snorted. He tried to hold in his laugh, he really tried. Yet the thought of  _The Champion_ being scared of offending him was just too amusing. And his giggles only increased when he saw Shiro's reaction, failing to hide his own chortles with the back of his hand. 

Maybe this night wasn't going to be something he regretted while laying on his bed back home, way too tired for only one am. 

-

He wasn't back at home by one am.

After a few more drinks, Shiro suggested going back, since the others might be getting worried. The party had dissipated a little bit, but there were still a quite big amount of people going strong, and the music and flashing coloured lights were just as intense. This time Keith walked through the crowd next to Shiro, knuckles and shoulders brushing into each other and continuing the chat they had kept up from the kitchen until then. They were interrupted by his cellphone buzzing. He pulled it out of the back pocket of his jeans and took a quick glance at it before shoving it back, frowning. 

"Matt went out with Allura. Something about Lance getting kicked out of the liquor store." he didn't elaborate, seemingly confused. Keith could imagine the scene pretty clearly, though, "Should we, uh... go somewhere?"

And that's how they ended up in the living room, sitting on the Holts' faded black corner sofa. Keith was already on his sixth drink and didn't remember when was the last time he checked his phone, but the image of a blurry screen displaying  _03:23am_  was pretty vivid on his mind. Shiro was courteous enough to let him take a bigger part of the sofa, so Keith was sprawled out on two seats and he was backed up in the opposite armrest. More than once, some of his teammates or friends greeted the both of them, and asked if they wanted to come and hang out with their group. However, Shiro only apologised, and continued his conversation with Keith.

They talked about inconsequential things, and each time either of them cracked out a joke or a witty comment, they both burst out laughing, no matter how bad it was (alcohol does wonders to anyone).

"You're a really cool person, Keith." Shiro smiled for what felt like the dozenth time that night, "Are you usually like this?"

Keith pondered for a second, looking inside his empty plastic cup as if something would sprout in it out of nowhere. Shiro didn't sound like he intended to be mean, but rather genuinely curious, so he decided to be sincere, "I don't know. I think you're just easy to talk to."

Shiro blushed, but that might've been a light trick or simply a drunk reaction.

"Am I?"

"Like I said, I saw you as a chick-flick jock cliché." Keith threw his cup to the side before sitting up and throwing his legs to the side of the sofa, giving Shiro more room to sit down properly, "Didn't think you would be so... human."

He pursed his lips and nodded in understanding, "I think I get what you mean. Sorry if I made you nervous."

"Nothing makes me nervous. I just expected something different of you."

He chuckled, "Like what?"

Keith moved his gaze away, staring at his nails instead. He didn't want to look Shiro in the face. Maybe because he felt like he wouldn't be as truthful if he did.

"I definitely didn't expect to be talking and sitting on a sofa with you." he bumped his legs against Shiro's for emphasis, "I thought you would probably ditch me in the middle of the night to hang out with your friends or to get on with some girl." he thought  _specially_  about the latter when he finally turned to look at Shiro. Maybe it was the vodka, but he considered pretty, handsome, even  _perfect_ to be anunderstatement to describe how he looked. The multicoloured sparkles from the LED party lights shining on his skin made him look like a work of art, printed on a stained glass window. His eyes mapped their way through his face -  a prominent nose, high cheekbones, dimples cornering plump lips, thick eyebrows; and finally, narrow, grey-coloured eyes that were staring right back into his. He felt his breath hitch as they carefully repeated the same pattern through his own features, stopping on his mouth.

"I bet you didn't expect me to kiss you either." Shiro whispered, ever so softly. 

"Wh-"

Keith didn't finish his question.

It was quick. Before Keith could even blink, Shiro pulled away. But the adrenaline rush coursing through his veins was enough to make him chase his lips again, cornering him into the end of the sofa into an open mouthed smooch that was seemingly uninterrupted, and a lot more heated.

If someone told him this morning that he would be making out with The Champion in Matt's living room at 4 am, Keith would either laugh or punch them. But sure enough, here he was, doing exactly that. Shiro was a damn good kisser, probably due to a lot of practice, and Keith felt butterflies fluttering in the pit of his stomach with every experienced flick of a warm tongue against his. Seeking more, he dipped his hands under the hem of Shiro's shirt and squeezed around his waist, which earned him a startled gasp. They separated with a loud pop.

They definitely shouldn't be doing this in front of God knows how many people.

"Do you wanna go upstairs?" Keith motioned towards the ceiling, whispering against Shiro's mouth. He shuddered when he felt their mingling breathing, so close, so  _intimate_. Shiro nodded, wide pupils covered slightly by half lidded eyes. 

Upstairs was Matt's bedroom. Keith knew about what usually happened there during his parties because, more than once, he found peculiar clothing items under his bed (a bright pink thong and a candy bra being two of his personal favourites). He was sure that Matt wouldn't mind them of all people to have some fun in there. 

Keith took the lead this time, and climbed the stairs in faltering steps with Shiro right behind him as they awkwardly tried to avoid some other couples making out near the handrails. Shiro almost tripped, but he caught him by grasping his forearm and pulling him up while they both chuckled.

Not wanting to wait any longer, they stumbled into Matt's room kissing and not even bothering to check if there was anyone in. Luckily, the bed was empty and Keith fell on top of the green checked covers with ease. Shiro kicked back the door shut and climbed on top of him.


	2. Oh No!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith hoped, by the power of the mightiest forces in the universe, that the mysterious person lying beside him wasn't Matt himself. Or even worse, Lance McClain.

The sunlight filtering through the window blinds was Keith's natural alarm clock that morning. That, and his huge, pounding headache. 

He sat up, squinting his eyes to try and adjust to the sudden brightness. The room was familiar. He had definitely crashed on this bed before, and he recognises the PlayStation 4 connected to the LCD TV decorated with alien stickers. The red graffiti on the ceiling, written "Holt the Bolt" in a nearly illegible handwriting made him realise he was, in fact, in Matt's room. 

The headache worsened when he tried to recollect the memories from last night. He remembers the hamburger story, the faint smell of weed, and the loud music. At some point during the night someone played All Star by Smash Mouth...? 

"Really helpful." he mumbles to himself. 

Maybe the easiest thing to do was to find his phone, have breakfast, and try to get Matt to spill whatever shenanigans he remembers Keith being up to last night. He scratched the back of his head, waiting a few minutes to gather up the strength to stand up without passing out or barfing on the already stained beige carpet. 

However, when he felt something warm brush against his calf, he froze in place.

He finally noticed the large lump next to him on the bed, rising and falling rhythmically. The unanswered question that hitched to leave his throat was stopped by sheer fear alone, his heartbeat significantly louder now and his quickened pulse banging against his already sensitive brain. 

Keith hoped, by the power of the mightiest forces in the universe, that the mysterious person lying beside him wasn't Matt himself. Or even worse, Lance McClain. 

He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was close to naked, wearing nothing apart from his boxers and the thin layer of dignity that he still had before he peeked under the covers. 

With trembling hands, he reached for the hem of the blanket, carefully so he wouldn't wake up whoever was sleeping under it. With a quick count from one to three and heavy breathing, he pulled it up slightly and revealed his shameful one night stand. 

The Champion. 

Keith removed his hand quickly, as if he had been burned.

He still couldn't remember what happened exactly, but he had connected the puzzle pieces and, even if it had some missing parts, he got a clear picture. Trying his best not to make any noise, he slipped away from the bed, looking around the room for his clothes and his phone.

 _It would help if they weren't scattered everywhere_ , he thought as he put on his shirt, which he had to yank free from Matt's green lava lamp. Soon enough, he found his neglected jeans on the end of the mattress and his jacket carelessly thrown near the door. He slipped them both on (stopping on his tracks when he heard the bed sheets rustling), hustling with zipper while trying to twist the knob without being loud.

Luckily, he managed to open the door swiftly. He left it ajar and slowly walked down the stairs, flinching when the steps creaked beneath his feet. 

The house was a complete mess. Keith couldn't tell the difference between the remains of Kansas in The Wizard of Oz and Matt's living room after a party. He grimaced as stepped over a guy who had passed out on the floor next to his own vomit, and went to the kitchen.

Sure enough, there was Dorothy, eating her breakfast on the dinner table and scrolling through her Instagram feed. 

"Psst! Matt!" 

Matt acknowledged him with a nod and a complacent smirk, "Morning, sunshine. Slept well?"

Keith didn't answer his question. How could he? He didn't even know if he had slept at all last night. He grabbed a chair, sliding onto it and glaring at the seemingly pleased expression plastered across his best friend's face. 

"Tell me what happened." he demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He shrugged as he took a spoonful of cocoa puffs, now looking at him over his phone, "I mean, one would guess that you totally got fucked by the one and only Takashi Shirogane, but it's not m-"

Takashi Shirogane. Shiro. So  _that_  was his name. Now with more information, Keith could remember more - the taste of vodka that still seemed to be engraved on his tongue, a distant echo of his own laughter mixed with someone else's, multicoloured party lights reflecting on grey irises and an incredibly messy make out on the sofa next door. All messed up in a second long flashback that felt like an incredibly realistic deja-vu. 

He groaned, shamefully hiding his face behind his hands. He had already guessed that that's what actually happened, but hearing Matt and his own mind confirming his theories was something else entirely, " _Oh my god._ "

"Hey, if it's any consolation, I didn't hear anything from downstairs." He joked. 

Keith shook his head in denial,  finally moving his palms away to look at Matt accusingly, "Why didn't you  _stop_  me?!"

"You needed to get laid man!"

"Not by  _him!_ " He motioned towards the ceiling, "For fuck's sake Matt! What will happen when he wakes up?!"

Matt frowned, looking so offended Keith might've as well have been talking about him, "Hey, Shiro is a nice guy!" 

"I don't care man! He's  _The Champion_!" he emphasised on the latter, trying to get his point across, "Do you even go to Garrison High?" 

"Yeah! I go there enough to know that all the rumours about Shiro are bullshit!"

Keith whined in frustration. Of course Matt would think something like that. Matt didn't have any problem with being one of the most friendly human beings on the face of the earth. He didn't have any problem with being friends with anyone who was remotely approachable and had at least 75% of chance of not being a serial killer. Of course he wouldn't see the problem in having a one night stand with someone with a social status as high as Shiro.

Because socialising and dealing with people came to Matt naturally. But Keith? Keith gets drained from having a ten minute conversation when he could've been at home watching his favourite TV Series. 

He stood up abruptly, and announced, "I'm leaving."

" _What?_ "

Ignoring Matt once again, he walked back to the entrance, trying to find his sneakers in the pile of shoes and empty bottles near the rack. The stench was unbearable, but he found his pair under some high heels with a piece gum stuck to one of the soles.

"Hey! Are you seriously just gonna bail?!" Matt shouted from the kitchen.

He started putting them on without any socks, struggling with a shoelace loop "What else can I do, Matt?"

"Maybe be a decent person?! Talk to him?!"

"Yeah, right." He scoffed as he opened the door, adjusting his jacket collar and turning around to take one last look at Matt peeping from the kitchen door, with messy hair and a chocolate stains all over his lip and shirt, "As if."

He banged the door closed and climbed down the steps of the front porch hurriedly. The weather had changed from yesterday, the frigid wind and humid air being replaced by a light breeze and dry atmosphere. The sun was shining brightly (not good on his hangover), but he could notice it was early in the morning by the strangely empty neighbourhood in such a beautiful day. The house looked almost lonely in its after-party state, but the remains of a wild night were still scattered around the street, in the form of red plastic cups and empty beverage cans.

Fortunately, his bike was still near the post he locked it on the night before, and the chain around it remained untouched. Keith felt relief wash through him. For some reason he expected the worst - someone stealing it or flattening his tires for fun. 

As he unlocked his bike, wincing at the clinking of the metal chain against the post, he seriously pondered on never having another drink for the rest of his life. 

-

"Physics is bullshit. Physics can take a dry, twelve inch dick up its ass."

"Your insults remain as great as ever, Keith."

  
They were studying in the library. Well, at least Matt was. Keith was sprawled over the burnt orange armchair with his book covering his face. He tried to take a nap, but every time he opened his eyes, the formula for potential difference stared back at him in judgement, a silent reminder of their test tomorrow morning.

The library was empty, though, and extremely quiet. The rhythmic ticking of the wall clock and Matt turning a page every now and then were the only noises that could be heard between the high book shelves that nearly reached the ceilings.

Neither Keith or Matt had talked to each other about Friday. Most importantly, Keith hadn't talked to Shiro.

Even if he wanted too, Shiro seemed to have completely vanished from school. He never saw him walking around the corridors anymore, or hanging out with Matt during breaks. 

Keith tried telling himself it was because he wasn't looking for him enough. But he was. He caught himself searching for Shiro in the sea of students in multiple occasions, hoping for a familiar glimpse of his grey eyes.

To no avail.

Maybe what they did was too precipitous. 

Matt broke the silence, "How long are you gonna ignore him?" 

Keith flinched. 

"What do you mean?" He lifted the book from his face, shifting on his seat to look at him. 

He was still writing out calculations on his notebook, unbothered, "Are you ever gonna talk to Shiro?"

Keith sneered, "How am I ignoring him if he's never around?"

"You could always ask me where he is." Matt glanced up at him, "Or for his number."

"Maybe if he wanted to talk to me, he would've asked  **you**  for  **my**  phone number."

"You can take the first step too, you know." He sounded stern, and Keith hated it. Because when Matt used that tone of voice with him, it usually meant that he was right, "I'll give you his phone number and you guys will talk about it."

He ripped a small piece of paper from his notes, sloppily scribbling a sequence of numbers on it before folding it and sliding it across the coffee table over to him. He turned back to his annotations, not bothering to check if Keith actually took it or not. 

But Keith only stared at him blankly for a few seconds, hesitant. If he took the number, he would have no excuses. He would have to talk to Shiro once and for all, and figure out whatever went on between them. 

"Fine." He grumbled, picking up the piece of paper and stuffing it in his jacket, "But I can't promise you anything."

-

Now, walking home, the folded piece of paper weighed heavily in his pocket. Maybe he should talk to Shiro after all, or at least have the decency to send him a text. 

On the other hand, the memories from their night together still aren't completely vivid. As far as Keith knew, they slept together, yes, but all he can recollect is their kiss, and bits and pieces of their conversations. 

He turned the key in the lock, and his front door creaked open with a familiar and irritating screech. Once again, he had forgotten oil up the rusty hinges. The smell of mold and liquor instantly filled up his nostrils, and he felt strangely comforted by it. It meant that his dad had passed by.

His father was an incredibly busy man. After Keith's mother died, he had to keep constantly doing work to keep a reasonable income and to pay for rent and to sustain Keith and himself. However, how he got the money wasn't considered as worthy as the reason why he did it. 

Even though the carpet was already damaged beyond repair, he took his shoes off by habit. It was something he picked up from his mom ever since he was little, and he never grew out of it. He left them under the coats next to his others, and walked upstairs to his room. 

The room itself was reasonably average sized. He had a single bed, a wardrobe, and multiple stickers and posters, which were plastered around the walls and starting to peel. He lied down, running his eyes through the faded black and white images of  _The Clash_ ,  _Pink Floyd_ and  _The Smiths._ They stopped on his constellation chart, which was decorated with newspaper articles and images about UFOs and aliens.

When he was a kid, Keith had a phase where he was obsessed with space. He never knew why, but something about the undiscovered cosmos sounded fascinating to his 7-year-old mindset. Pursuing his newly found passion, he had began to look up any information about stars, planets, and the possibility about life out of earth. He remembers how he first got suspended because he punched a kid who said all his conspiracy theories were fake. 

Between his belongings, he also had a cassette player (of which he kept secretly hidden in a box under his bed, with all his favourite playlists and old vinyl records), a pocket knife (for safety), and a small book collection. Of course, they were mostly about space, but he also had literary classics like  _To Kill a Mockingbird_  and  _The Great Gatsby._

With a defeated sigh, he pulled out the piece of paper from his jacket, along with his phone. He slowly typed in the numbers, checked the sequence twice, and pressed the dial button.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

Keith was ready to give up after the fourth. He shouldn't have called. It would better to leave the situation alone, to sweep the memories of Friday under the carpet an-

_"Hello?"_

Shit.

"Um, hi. Is Shirogane there?" Keith absolutely hated himself. Of course he was there - that was his phone number, and he could recognise his voice through the speaker.

 _"This is him. Wait, is this Keith?"_ He chirped up, the shift in his voice noticeably going from uninterested to hopeful in a matter of seconds,  _"Did you ask Matt for my number?"_

"Yeah. It's Keith." He didn't comment on the last part, "Listen... we need to talk."

Shiro paused,  _"I thought so. About Friday, right?"_

Thrumming his fingers on his thigh and heart palpitating with nervousness, he decided to be straightforward,  "Listen I just wanted to say that I know that that was a one time thing." 

_"Oh. Okay? Wait. You know...?"_

Keith couldn't pinpoint the tone in Shiro's words, "I know. And honestly, I'm fine. I feel the same, and I'd rather just forget about what happened."

Shiro was quiet for a long time, _"Okay. Yeah."_ He murmured,  _"But, Keith?"_

"Yes?"

_"Can we still be friends?"_

The thrumming of his fingers stopped abruptly. Of all the things Keith expected to happen during this conversation, this was definitely the least likely.

The request sounded confused, and a bit disappointed. But Keith knew better, and no, it couldn't be. He was 100% sure that Shiro also felt like their night together was a mistake.

And he was even surer that being friends after what happened would be an even bigger mistake. 

"Yeah. Sure, man." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

He could practically feel Shiro's smile on the other line,  _"Ok! That's great! I guess I'll see you, then? Maybe at lunch or something."_

Keith felt tempted to ask Shiro how come he wasn't in school all week, and if he was finally going to be back tomorrow.  On the other hand, he had a feeling that if Shiro wanted him to know, he would've already told him.

So he just merely let out a bitter chuckle to himself, tossing around to lay on his side, "Yeah. See you, Shiro."

He ended the call, wondering just what the hell he had gotten himself into.

-

Just like he had promised, Takashi Shirogane sat on his table at lunch the following day, bringing Allura and Matt along with him. Keith didn't even notice they were coming over, until he nearly spilled the canteen's spaghetti over his shirt when Allura caught him in what was supposed to be a friendly headlock.

"Hey, Keef! I missed you!" she ruffled his hair, laughing and letting him go once he started protesting, "You didn't say goodbye to us on Friday!"

Matt snorted, covering his mouth so he wouldn't spill the orange Capri-Sun he was drinking, "Allura, it's  _Keith."_

Allura frowned, "I know. That's what I said!"

"No, you said  _Keef_. It's  _Keith_."

They started an argument about different accents and pronunciations, of which they seemed to have had many times before. Once settled, the group was extremely boisterous, and Keith felt out of place. He wasn't used to this, and the sudden change felt overwhelming.

He usually sat alone. Out of choice, because he didn't feel the need to try and make up small-talk when sitting by himself.

But he felt guilty for not contributing to the discussion when Allura and Matt started talking amongst themselves, heating up their debate. He looked around his surroundings, trying to find a conversation topic; concentrating on the rim of Matt's glasses, or Allura's handmade Saturn earrings. Maybe he could incorporate that into the conversation, somehow.

He moved his glare to across the table, where Shiro was sat. So far, the quarterback hadn't spoken a word, but their eyes met for a quick second before he went back to his food tray.

He looked tired. Extremely tired, if the purple hued circles that slumped under his stare were anything to take by. His naturally tanned skin looked pale and ill. Dishevelled hair that is usually gelled up covered part of his forehead. His expression was nauseous, and his outer appearance was overall haggard, the complete opposite of the Shiro he remembered from the other night.

Keith furrowed his eyebrows in concern. Shiro seemed to catch that out of the corner of his eye, because he looked up to Allura almost immediately, shifting on his seat and smiling, "I'm pretty sure that even British people say "sweater" sometimes."

Matt slammed his fist on the table, "EXACTLY. THANK YOU, SHIRO!"

"Excuse me, boys, but I'm British. I lived in Britain. We do not say sweater. It's called a  _jumper_." Allura retorted, tugging her own sweatshirt emphatically, "Keith agrees with me, right, Keith?"

Keith cleared his throat, abashed to be included in the conversation, "Sorry, Allura, but I say it's a sweater."

She sighed and put her hands up in defeat, "That's it. I quit. It's not fair that everyone in this table is American and against me!"

"And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave, o'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!"

"Shut up, Matt."

Shiro laughed, and Keith felt more at ease, letting go of the tension he didn't even realise he was holding.

Seeing The Champion looking so frail and vulnerable was shocking. It reminded him that behind all the rumours, glory, and fame, Shiro was still just a normal high school kid; and that added more to his guilt for ditching him on Friday.

He was so distracted that he didn't notice when the table fell into an awkward silence, Matt and Allura glancing back and forth between them.

Matt was the first one to break it, leaning towards Shiro and giving him a few reassuring pats on his back, "Hey man, we needed to go to practice, remember?"

Shiro scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion, "Did we?"

"Yeah. You were planning to call up a practice during lunch."

His frown deepened, "I don't remember that."

Matt sat up, pulling Shiro up with him by tugging forcefully at the sleeve of his hoodie and sliding on his backpack, "Point is, we need to go. See you guys."

Keith watched them walk away, Shiro still reluctant and Matt trying his best to shush him down. The situation was familiar, and Keith knew that whatever came next was definitely something he wouldn't be able to get out of.

He turned to Allura, who shyly tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear, "So, Keith." She smiled and placed one hand over his. Keith didn't know if being touchy with acquaintances was something normal to British people, or if it was just part of Allura's sweet nature, "We need to talk. About Shiro."

Shivers ran down his spine. She sounded tranquil, but by the strong grip on his fingers once she clenched her hand closed made him be sure of what she is capable of, "I'm listening."

Upon hearing that, she released her grip and sat back, "Listen, I think he really likes you." 

He shook his head in disbelief, "You guys are still on that? No. He doesn't. We both know it was a one time thing. There would be no way in hell he would like me that way."

  
Allura raised one eyebrow, "Are you really trusting your own judgement about him rather than his best friends?"

"No! I'm just saying, it was one night. And I don't even see him that way. Hell, I feel a hundred times more socially awkward around him! It was a mistake."

It was true. It wasn't a matter of stereotypes, or prejudice. Keith knew for a fact that liking each other was something that was out of question, not only due to the fact that they didn't know each other prior the party, but because when he looked at Shiro, he felt like everything that went on was still very surreal. 

He didn't know how he felt towards Shiro yet. Everything was too soon to tell, and his mind was a blur of what could or couldn't be drunk remembrances of his own feelings and thoughts about him. 

Allura had no counterargument to that. She pursed her lips until they disappeared into a thin line, looking down at her lilac acrylic nails and twiddling her thumbs while thinking of an answer. Keith fiddled with the straw of his milk carton.  
  


Finally, she looked back at him, "I'm sure once you get to know Shiro, you'll be more comfortable around him. I mean, you're comfortably talking to me right now." She smiled again, softer this time, and Keith had a hard time on maintaining his annoyed composure, "Until then, why don't you hang out with us? Matt said that he had been planning to invite you to our group for a while now."

"Not to sound really emo, but I'm more of a lone wolf."

"We both know that's not true."

The bell ringed, a deafening and resonant sound that echoed across the cafeteria. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith saw Shiro dragging a protesting Matt back to the canteen, barely escaping his strong iron grip on his left arm.  He also swore Allura gave him a thumbs up before standing up, grabbing her bag and giving him one last signature smile, "See you later!"

He didn't have time to say it back before she left, stopping at the cafeteria door to nod at his direction to Matt. After a few indistinguishable words exchanged between them, they left together, leaving Keith behind and having to deal with a pouting, mislead jock.

Shiro arrived, grabbing his own bag that had been left behind during all of Matt's commotion, "Hi. We did  _not_ have practice."

Keith chuckled, "Did you really believe him?"

"I'm not even sure why. Maybe I'm just too tired."

Keith glanced at his prominent eye-bags, a bitter feeling slowly building at the pitch of his stomach.

**Author's Note:**

> YEET so, this is just an AU i made with my friend Gabby about high school sheith which I HAD to write a fic about. This is probs gonna be a long fic so be ready for more.


End file.
